


bad hair days

by lavenderet (orphan_account)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, each section is a separate day, just for one section and it will be marked for those who want to skip it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lavenderet
Summary: A haircut like Goro's requires careful maintenance. Patience, too, when it causes as much trouble as it does.(Alternatively: a collection of mishaps that may or may not have to do with the length of one's hair. Ren is only half-complaining.)





	bad hair days

**Author's Note:**

> there's one short inexplicit sex scene in here, so it will be marked with a two line breaks instead of one if you want to skip it! it's definitely not essential to your enjoyment of the story lol
> 
> comments and kudos are v v appreciated <3

There’s a sizable puddle on the kitchen floor. Ren only knows this because the light illuminates its contours, spanning about the length and width of a human head. It’s not a particularly effective wet-floor sign, but at least the warning exists; Ren steps over it, mindful not to make any contact with the droplets and wet his socks in the process.

“Hey,” he says to the mass of brown hair blocking his vision, “Goro, you’re dripping all over.”

The mass of hair turns to face him. Ren bites back a remark, jabbing a thumb towards the invisible death zone pooling at his heels. Goro’s gaze flicks down, then up.

“I was cutting carrots there,” he says, as if that will explain anything.

“I almost slipped and broke my _neck_ there. Are you making curry?” He tries to take a step forward, but his foot skids over a slick spot on the tiles ( _shit)_ and he’s on a one-way trip to the floor, only escaping demise when Goro’s arms envelop him and tug him to his chest. He smells like body wash, sharp in the way Ren knows he specifically sought out a men’s brand when he went shopping earlier—one that Ren remembers he mentioned liking during another outing. How considerate of him.

“Careful, Ren.” Goro props him to his feet with strong hands under his armpits, lifting him. Ren is indignant, an “I-told-you-so” sitting just at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it again. Instead, he tugs at the ends of Goro’s wet strands and elicits a wince.

“You should try a hair dryer one of these days,” he quips, and Goro scowls and releases him.

“It flattens my hair, I’ll have you know. And who are you to give me advice on hair? With your mop the way it is, like you haven’t brushed it in days—”

“Pretentious ass,” Ren says through a laugh, hand shooting out to latch onto Goro’s roots, but Goro seizes his wrist, then the other, trapping both in a vise-like grip. Ren struggles vainly, not really trying; Goro’s face when he think he’s won always makes it worth it.

“You haven’t even apologized for the mess,” Ren pouts, all bark. Goro is unimpressed.

“I’ll wear a towel next time,” he amends, and Ren breaks away from him.

“You better, or I’ll enforce the hair dryer. At least put some paper towels on the ground.”

“Anything for you, _Leader_.”

He turns on his heel, consequently whipping Ren in the face with damp hair, and it stings like a bitch. Ren’s jaw drops in disbelief. That was _definitely_ on purpose, but Goro is already walking away, a sway to his hips that boasts of victory.

 

* * *

 

They don’t usually have the opportunity for a hike. Goro is an early riser, fixing the two of them breakfast before he inevitably leaves for work, and Ren will sleep in until his circadian rhythm decides it’s time to eat—around noon, mostly, which is when the eggs Goro left him will have gone cold. Now that it’s the weekend, they have time to drive out to the nearest park and admire what they take for granted: the susurrus of leaves, water as it crackles over the rocks, colorful beetles trickling one by one out of a log.

Somehow, Ren thinks, silence is more welcoming when it’s in nature; it’s the gaze that counts, what you take in and admire more than how you can translate it into words. Ren has never been the vocal sort. Even after December, when words meant a lot more—when there was truth to look forward to, truths that were in demand—Ren valued proof through action, and Goro respected that, no matter how much his words meant to him.

So really, this is kind of spiritual for Ren, hiking up a trail with only Goro at his side to share in the sensations. Aside from the warmth of Goro’s glove, every sound, smell, and touch is organic, filling him with a childlike delight each moment they experience it together.

Ren names flower species as they amble through. Goro hums to each, content to soak in his voice. Sometimes he’ll mock the caw of a bird, and Ren will laugh, or they’ll stop to talk about the history of a certain tree, but otherwise the white noise of the park fills in the rest.

“We should do this more often,” Ren says, after a bout of steady silence. Goro squeezes his hand.

“I agree. Perhaps even more than that, we should…” His voice tapers off, substituted with the trickling of some faraway stream, a baby bird lamenting its hunger. Ren tilts his head at Goro, questioning. Goro is no longer looking at him. When Ren follows the path of his gaze, he finds it fixed on the virgin shrubbery, some of which bear fruit and budding flowers; he lifts a single finger and points at one.

“Ren, what is that flower?”

“Hm? Oh…” Ren leans forward, squinting a bit. “I believe it’s a kind of hydrangea.”

Goro advances, dipping his head to examine the flower. He sniffs it, wrinkles his nose. Then, he moves on, watching a caterpillar as it squirms across over one of the leaves, catching it with a finger before it can fall.

Ren chuckles, endeared by his fiancé’s concentration. Goro says, “Amazing, isn’t it?” He chews the inside of his cheek, rotating the finger on which the caterpillar resides. It follows the shift easily until it’s right side up, and Goro smiles down at it. “We tend to miss so much of what makes these creatures beautiful. How quick we are to pass them off as a nuisance, without thinking to take a closer look…”

Ren says nothing, allowing that brief pause to let the thought sink in. Goro stares longer at the caterpillar, until, with a sigh, he sets it down on a leaf. “In any case… we shouldn’t linger too long.”

He straightens up, dusting off his hands. When he moves to pull away, though, something snatches him back into place, and Goro yelps. His hands fly to his head—his hair, which is currently tangled in—

“Christ,” Ren says, barely holding back laughter.

Goro narrows his eyes at him. “Very funny,” he drones, yanking at the bundle of hair which has snagged on a nearby branch. “Go on, laugh while you can. When I’m free, you won’t be laughing any longer.”

“You’re not helping your case saying things like that, you know.” Ren snorts, fishing out his phone to snap a picture. And then two, from a different angle. A third one, a little closer this time—Goro complies, but begrudgingly, his picture-perfect smile twitching at the edges.

“Ren.” Goro gives another ineffectual tug, wincing when it doesn’t give. “Could you please?”

“Yeah, yeah, stop whining.” He puts back his phone, reaching for the branch, and it’s… pretty sharp, poking Ren here and there as he tries to untangle Goro’s hair from it. Eventually he snaps it off its trunk, bringing it level with his chest and picking out the individual hairs; Goro gasps each time Ren accidentally pulls some from his scalp, and the longer this goes on, the more hopeless the endeavor begins to seem.  

“Your hair is too thick,” Ren chides, releasing the branch to examine his palms for any wounds. The cursed twig hangs uselessly from Goro’s hair, like some sort of twisted hair accessory (Ann would most definitely try to turn that into fashion). “Hey, did you bring scissors?”

“If you cut my hair, Amamiya, I will make sure you can never use your pretty little fingers again.”

“Kidding,” Ren says, throwing his arms up in surrender. “I’m only kidding, Goro. I’ll get this thing out of your hair, who do you take me for?”

“A menace.” Goro sulks, but there’s no mistaking the trace of affection in it, and Ren huffs out a laugh. He wiggles his fingers, teasing, and then they’re suddenly back in Goro’s hair, working to free him of that branch for good. If that leaves a leaf or two in that same spot for the rest of the hike, well, Ren makes sure to never mention them until Goro’s indignant squawk when he checks his face in the mirror tells him that he noticed.

 

* * *

 

“A ramen shop?” Goro’s voice is all wariness.

“Did you want to eat somewhere else?” Not that it matters, because Ren’s already opening the door, not checking to see whether Goro shakes his head or nods at him. Still, he can feel Goro’s presence nearby as he enters; the two of them find a seat against the wall after placing their orders, far enough from the main crowd that they have some degree of privacy.

“I don’t particularly mind ramen,” Goro murmurs, as if to continue their conversation from earlier. He occupies the seat across from Ren, the distance between them so small their legs brush when fully seated. “I suppose I assumed you wanted to eat somewhere grander for your birthday.”

“Mm. Was the Detective Prince going to treat me to the Hilton buffet?” He locks their ankles together under the table. A hand rests on his knee, smoothing down and up his thigh.

“I would have treated you to anything you want.”

“Anything I want?”

Goro huffs, ceasing his movements on Ren’s leg. “Of course. Am I not capable enough for you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ren laughs. “Though, you _are_ giving a man a few ideas.”

Goro slaps his knee, and Ren’s laughter echoes louder, until their conversation devolves into nothing, just the quiet assurance that neither are leaving, neither are discontent. Their order arrives within minutes, fogging up Ren’s glasses and obscuring his sight of Goro. As he pulls away to clean them, something catches the corner of his eye; chopsticks, clattering onto the table, followed by incoherent, impolite grumbling. He looks up at the source of the problem.

“Is something the matter, Goro?” he inquires.

“Apologies, just—” Goro sweeps his hair over his shoulders, retrieving his chopsticks again. However, upon leaning forward to pick up the noodles, his hair grazes the surface of the broth, and then deeper. He huffs and flicks his hair away, some droplets of soup flying in Ren’s face. Ren slides his glasses back on.

“Hey, Goro. Do you… need a hair tie or something?”

“I don’t have one.” Goro grunts, leaning back so that when he draws the noodles to his face, they’re further from his hair. Ren laughs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Seems like a genuine problem without one, though. Maybe I should feed that to you?”

Goro glowers at him.

“What?”

Goro sighs, but says nothing, prompting Ren to scoop up a helping and bring them to his lips. Goro slurps it up easily, his eyes still hard-set on Ren’s.

“This is impractical,” Goro decides after he's swallowed. “There are better ways of doing this.”

“I know that.” He neglects to mention how much he’s enjoying himself. With his free hand, he brushes back some loose curls on Goro’s cheek, tucks them behind the shell of his ear. The flush that burns Goro’s skin then is more rewarding than any silly birthday dinner he could have.

“At least let me feed you in return,” Goro teases, and it betrays the warmth Ren feels against his fingertips when he strokes the length of Goro’s jaw. Ren shrugs; Goro goes for it.

Ren makes sure to maintain eye contact as he slurps up his portion, pursing his lips in what he hopes is a seductive manner and releasing a hum at the taste. Goro simply laughs, tapping his nose with the end of his chopsticks. Ren has to refrain from coughing up noodles in surprise, batting away the chopsticks before it can poke his eyes out.

“Unsanitary,” Ren complains with a pout. Goro’s smile widens, and he opens his mouth wide for his next bite, Ren feeding it to him with barely-suppressed laughter. They’re probably the most obnoxious couple in this restaurant. Ren loves it.

Maybe a little too much, because he’s getting clumsy now, focused single-mindedly on the flush of Goro’s cheeks as he dives for the next bite. “Stop dropping the noodles!” Goro giggles, slapping Ren’s wrist. The next time Ren raises the chopsticks to Goro’s face, Goro gets some hair in his mouth, and a disgusted wince mars his features. He pulls the lock out with a huff.

“You really do need to cut your hair,” Ren muses.

“Shut up.” Goro flicks drops of soup in his direction.

At some point, they get tired of reaching across the table to feed each other, and Ren lets Goro eat his noodles the way he usually would, hair gathered over the shoulder of his non-dominant hand and bowl carefully distanced from his chin. At the very least, he gets a nice view of the curve of Goro’s jaw from here—and oh, last night’s hickey, right underneath his ear. It was hidden so well he almost forgot about it. Well, that’s one benefit to having long hair, he supposes.

Goro’s hair, now that he thinks about it, is always so nice and soft. He’s high maintenance, buys a new conditioner bottle at least once every month, and Ren is certain if he had the opportunity he’d grab at least two more bottles of luxury hair junk that all seem to serve the same purpose.

Now, Goro’s hair is curtaining over his food as he leans over, the glossy strands reflecting the light of the sun. Wait, did he say "over his food"? 

“Is... something the matter?” Goro frowns.

“Your hair’s in the broth again,” Ren says dumbly.

“What—? Oh, god damn it.” Goro slaps his chopsticks down, stands up, and storms over to the counter to ask for a rubber band. Ren thinks about how a ponytail will definitely _not_ hide the rest of last night’s marks and slides down his seat in embarrassment.

 

* * *

* * *

 

For some reason, tonight, Goro is _eager_.

Ren knows better than to inquire the nature of his husband’s haste, but when he’s thrown onto the mattress so roughly he nearly knocks his head into the headboard, he thinks his concern is at least a _little_ justified. He attempts to sit up, to get the question out before it’s dodged, but a hand on his shoulder shoves him back down. Deft fingers undo the clasps of his pants and tug them off, chucking them to the floor.

“What are you so pushy for?” Ren mutters, unable to stifle a gasp when Goro’s mouth finds his collarbone and bites down, hard. “ _God,_ you—you asshole, at least let me catch my breath.”  

Slowly, excruciatingly, Goro sucks on the mark, stroking him with the hand not currently fumbling with a bottle of lube. “Is that an objection I hear?”

“What? No, but—”

“Good.” He shifts up, lips hovering a centimeter over Ren’s. “Then stop talking.”

The rest passes in a blur—fingers stretching him, Goro’s voice in his ear, low, pleased, his hands gripping Ren’s thighs so tight they bruise. Ren scrabbles for the sheets above his head and holds on, fighting to keep his hips still as Goro finally, finally, pushes in.

“G-Goro…” Ren keens at a particularly sharp thrust. “Ngh, please—”

“Tell me what you want,” Goro groans, pressing their foreheads together.

Parting his lips, words lost in the pressure of his heaving breaths, Ren swallows down nothing and searches for his voice: “I… I—”

Something brushes his tongue, then, and he spits off to the side, coughing erratically.

Goro jerks back. “Ren? A-Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Your hair was in my mouth,” Ren mumbles, wiping at his lips with chagrin.

Goro sighs, looking around, muttering, “There should be a hair tie around here somewhere…”

“Let’s just switch positions,” Ren suggests, but is immediately pushed down when he tries to lift himself. He’s met with the pearly-white warning smile Goro likes to adopt when he’s about to get rough, and it sends a hot shiver through his spine, their dilemma immediately forgotten.

“I want you on your back, Ren,” Goro murmurs, his finger stroking Ren’s cheekbone, “right where I can see you.” His smile widens. He leans down, the tips of his hair caressing Ren’s cheek, and Ren blows air into his face.

“Tie your hair back, then,” Ren chides.

Rolling his eyes, Goro fishes a hair tie out of their bedside drawer and gathers his hair up, revealing his smooth neck, the red tips of his ears. Ren’s struck with the sudden urge to bite it—so when Goro tucks his head into Ren’s neck, his hips picking up their slow, slow pace, Ren turns and scrapes his teeth against the shell of his ear.

Goro growls, his grip suddenly tightening as he lifts his head, crushes their lips together. Ren moans, back arching, and Goro pulls away only to dive back in again, again, again, barely leaving room for any breath.

“Goro, ah—” Ren tilts his head back; Goro’s fringe tickles his nose. “Ah— _achoo!”_

Goro recoils again, looking frazzled, and Ren thinks,  _God, that was so unsexy._

“Ren,” Goro says, lips twitching, and all of a sudden he’s bursting out in laughter.

Ren can’t help his scowl. “Goro, it’s not funny!”

“Sorry, I’ll—” He chokes on another laugh. “Oh my god. Do I really need another hair tie?”

“No, no, just—” Fuck, it’s too hard to think with Goro balls-deep inside of him. And then he remembers: Goro’s latest present for him, languishing in the drawer. Mischief boils his blood anew, and he grins, leaning away to dig into the drawer’s contents.

Goro just watches him, clearly impatient. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“Be quiet.” Ren finds it, unburies it from mountains of combs and keys and other miscellaneous shit. “Here, put this on.”

Goro takes it from him. “… The… cat headband?”

“Revenge for laughing at me. Hurry up, I’m losing my mind,” he urges, voice trembling still. Goro hesitates a second too long, and Ren snatches it from him, slides it over Goro’s hair himself. His bangs lift away until his forehead is bared, and his eyes, normally hooded by long, tousled strands, are brighter underneath the moonlight, bigger, even. The sheer power of his gaze is enough to knock him breathless.

“… W-Well?” Ren wriggles his hips, unable to hide how affected he is. “Come on, get on with it, kitty.”

Goro flushes, and the pink is doubly visible without his bangs to shroud him, much to Ren’s delight. But the teasing does its job; Goro’s hands Ren’s hips and pull him closer, rocking into him, and Ren sinks into the motions eagerly, the image of Goro in cat ears so outrageous that he can’t help the giggles that bubble up in-between gasps and moans.

“Look at you,” he babbles, reaching for Goro’s cheeks and tugging on them. “Wh-What a cute cat—hah—”

Goro takes hold of both of his wrists and pins them down with one hand. “ _Behave_ , or I’ll find the matching pair and use it on you.”

Ren manages a smirk. “God, if only I had my camera…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Another time,” Ren concedes, yelping as Goro hits him _there,_ the impact nearly enough to send his back off the mattress. “ _Fuck_ , y—you’ll have to wear this for me again later.”

“Hmm. Not counting on that,” Goro says, smug as ever despite the sweat dripping down his forehead, and Ren loves and hates him for it. Really such a shame he can’t keep his vision focused for another minute—the pleasure is too much for him to do anything but lie pliantly. He would’ve spent all night admiring Goro’s new look, but, well. Like he said, another time.

 

* * *

 

“Goro.” Ren smiles, tender, at the sight of his husband.  “Come here, honey. Come hold him.”

Goro’s hands tremble, but his grip is firm when he finally, finally, takes their son into his arms, marvelling at his soft eyes, his curly tufts of hair. When he laughs, it’s broken, disbelieving—like he’s wondering _how_ he could have this, _why_ he deserves this, _what can he do to be worthy of it_ —and Ren only knows because he’s wondering the same thing for himself.

“He’s looking at you,” Ren says, and Goro laughs again. He strokes a thumb over his son’s brow.

“Ren, I…”

He doesn’t say more, too choked up to articulate. Ren is thankful; he’s sure if Goro spoke again, he wouldn’t be able to last either, and the last thing he wants to do is lose his wits in front of all these nurses.

Then, the baby’s hand reaches up. All of a sudden, he’s curling his fingers into Goro’s hair and tugging. Once, enough to make Goro gasp, and then twice, and then again, until he’s pulling, hard, and Goro’s face is twisting into a pained grimace.

“Ren—” He reaches for the hand, but it’s tangled tightly into his hair. “Ren, ah— _help_.”

Ren laughs, shaking his head and capturing the moment on his phone. Goro scowls, taking matters into his own hands; the child’s grip is surprisingly strong, but he manages to uncurl it from his hair, tucking the tiny hand against his chest. Any further attempts at grasping are swayed with a gentle hush and a nudge of the offending hand.

Ren watches him, quietly thrilled. They’d planned this for months now, contacted orphanages and sought out opportunities to adopt, until their searches led them here—to a baby boy named Ryouta, the quietest of the nursery but full of love and curiosity for the world, even when it left him at a stranger’s doorstep and kept him inside of the same building for all of the six months he’s lived.

With fingers trembling so hard they slip on his phone screen, Ren sends the recording to his friends and grins when the group chat explodes with life. Expressions of shock, excitement, relief—their energy is contagious, and it sends warmth flooding through his body, almost to the point of overwhelming him. He’s surprised when the words on the screen suddenly blur into nothing, and tears, hot and vicious, pour down his cheeks.

“Ren?” Goro’s voice is full of alarm. “Ren, love, what’s wrong? Look at me.”

Ren struggles to keep his eyes open, everything bright and glowing and _painful,_ so wonderfully painful. He feels Goro’s hand on his cheek, the other reaching for his phone and sliding it into his pocket, gentle, attentive. “Ren," Goro coos, "listen to me. The worst is over now. The pain that we went through—”

Ren clutches at his wrist, gasps, “No, Goro, I’m—I’m happy. I’m so happy.”

That softens the expression on Goro’s face, and he trails his fingers down, cradling Ren’s jaw. “I love you,” he whispers happily.

“I love you too.” Ren smiles, leaning into his palm. “I’m sorry. I never cry like this—”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re happy, and so am I. Let’s just live in the moment.” Goro reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Despite his cool words, there are the beginnings of tears in his eyes, too, and Ren caresses his cheek, lowers his hand to linger on the soft skin of Ryouta’s own. Ryouta gurgles excitedly, limbs kicking out. He reaches up to pull at Goro’s hair again and Goro lets it happen graciously (his smile strained, his jaw tight). Ren laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before, and Goro joins him, still wincing in pain, and everything feels— _right._ The thorns of the past removed, both of their edges softened, pressed neatly together to fit in harmony.

Maybe Ryouta was the missing piece. Or, perhaps, simply their unity symbolized. It doesn’t matter to him—only that they’re _complete,_ and ready for the next chapter in their lives.  

The caretakers describe in detail Ryouta’s habits, his schedule, what to expect, and Ren and Goro listen intently. When they’re given the OK to bring Ryouta home, they whisk him away, show him the room they’d been preparing for so long, everything new and methodical but missing the one occupant to give it life. The former Thieves come and go, visiting when they can (they couldn’t visit altogether, their schedules too incompatible, but that was life now, and they had adapted to it by then). Even Sojiro and Sae stop by to congratulate them on the new addition to the family.

Morgana sits by Ryouta all day. Most of the time, he complains about the child’s mystifying behavior, but that’s really only because he’s never dealt with a baby before, and he’s not sure how to communicate with it.

“How is he supposed to tell I don’t want my tail yanked?” he whines, as he allows his tail to be yanked anyway.

“Just walk away,” Goro says without lowering his book. Morgana makes a strangled sound.

“What? But that—!”

Ryouta grabs his tail again, and Morgana yelps, but otherwise does nothing. Everything suddenly clicks. “Do you like Ryouta?” Ren inquires, and Morgana just glowers.

“Ugh, forget it. Just do something about that weird smell coming from him!”

At the end of the day, Ryouta fast asleep in his crib and Morgana next to him, Ren sleepily drapes himself across Goro’s back and buries his face in his hair. Something wet smears across his cheek, and he murmurs in disgust, wiping the substance from his face.

“Goro, what’s that stuff in your hair?”

A sigh, and then a shrug. “Baby food. Ryouta is still learning to use his hands, so he slapped the container right out of my hands.” He laughs, shaking his head as he shuffles to clean up the mess they’d left in the kitchen. “I expected it to be this difficult, of course, but…”

“But what?” Ren nuzzles his shoulder, careful not to make contact with the slop dripping from Goro’s hair.

Goro leans his weight onto Ren, just a little. “… I’m terrified of messing up.”

“You won’t mess up, Goro.” Ren finds a stray napkin and uses it to wipe the baby food off of him. “Not in the way you’re afraid of, at least. We’ll both slip up, but… that's why we have each other. We're in this together.”

He doesn’t even need to look to know that Goro is smiling, and the tension in Goro’s frame eases until he’s practically limp against Ren’s chest. “Right. Of course.” He pauses for a moment. “I should probably do something about my hair.”

“Shower,” Ren says, peeling himself off of Goro. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

Goro turns to face him, hand lingering on Ren’s arm, and says, “I’ll meet you there,” with shining eyes, a surprising warmth in his smile. Ren uses that promise to ease the chill that comes with Goro’s vanishing, knowing that, when all is said and done, the warmth he felt then will return to where it rightfully belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!!
> 
> if you like my longfic lost & found, the next chapter is in the works! i've finished all my creative projects and writing it is my top priority :3
> 
> (i also have a twitter where i do art and say dumb shit @nonnecheri come say hi)


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